Martha (Patreon)

A bit of an experimental format. What do you think?

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Part 1

"You know who I am, stop playing this game," she hissed through gritted teeth, her hands clenched each other. Her body shook with barely-contained anger. "Damn you, this isn't funny anymore!".

Her husband, standing before her, only tilted his head in confusion, his brows furrowing slightly as he tried to comprehend her words. "Martha, my dear, what nonsense are you talking about now?" he replied, his tone patronizing, as if speaking to a child. "Have you lost your senses? You must have been in that bath too long. All this talk about being someone else, it’s ridiculous."

"My name isn’t Martha! It’s... It’s..." She faltered, realizing that even her name, her real name, was slipping away from her grasp. "Dammit!" she cursed under her breath as she twirling her finger curling her hair around her fingers like her body wanted to, but her mind fought it and she sharply tugged them off, ignoring the small pain from it. "You hit your head and started believing in this nonsense," she tried again. "We're not supposed to be here, damn it! This is a mistake!"

Edward's expression hardened, his patience clearly wearing thin. He took a step closer and reached out his hand to stroke her cheek. "Enough of this madness, Martha," he said, his voice dropping to a soft, yet stern tone, as if speaking to an errant child. "You need to rest. You've always had such a delicate constitution, and all this talk of time travel... it's just the result of an overactive imagination." His hand gently squeezed her chin, causing her to jerk her face away in annoyance.

“Don't touch me!" she said angrily. "Stop patronizing me! I'm your boss, your team leader. We are from future and we are here because..." she faltered, her voice cracking under the strain of trying to remember. It was like grasping at smoke. Her memories of her past real life seemed like it was some last dream that was quickly dissipating in the bright morning light.

Edward's smirk grew as he watched her struggle. "Because of what, Martha?" he asked mockingly, clearly amused by her desperation. "Listen to yourself, Martha. A mission? The future? You sound like a madwoman. You need to calm down before you hurt yourself."

"You must remember," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. She tried to recall the mission, the team, the purpose of their journey, but it still slipped away like water through her fingers.

Edward watched her, his expression a mix of concern and amusement. "Martha, you’re not well. This... whatever it is you’re imagining, it’s not real. You need to rest."

"Stop calling me that!" she snapped, spinning around to face him. "My name... my real name... is..." But the name was gone, lost in the haze that clouded her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to remember, to break through the fog that had settled over her thoughts. But it was no use. All she could see was the image of the weak woman and faithful wife from that time, not that big man, the leader of the time travel team from 2098.

She felt Edward's large form pressing her against him and this time she didn't flinch in response, letting him embrace her. She felt her body trembling slightly, as her mind tried to resist, to break away. But it was difficult, she needed these hugs so much now that she even could not control her emtion anymore and she just hugged him tightly back, tears running down her face as her voice, almost soundless, whispered into his ear:

"I am not your obedient little wife. I am a..." She couldn't remember, couldn't remember her role, her power in that future world. All she could see in her mind now was her childhood as the quiet and obedient girl, then her teenage years as the pretty, obedient daughter, and then her wedding with Edward. All she could think of now was the role of a faithful wife. She sobbed uncontrollably into Edward's shoulder, the sobs turning into soft laughter. "I'm losing my mind..."

Edward smiled and patted her on the back. "It's all right, my dear," he said in a soothing tone. "You've always had such an active imagination." he released her and smiled. "Now, why don't you lie down, and maid will bring you some tea."

"Tea... tea is for sickly wife, yeah? For delicate, fragile creature with weak, little body? For some silly woman that everyone wants to protect and lead by hand and not for leader of time travel team. Yeah? Tea will calm me, right? But-"

"Enough! There will be no place for this in my house anymore! If you say anything about this nonsense again, I'll throw you into asylum! The doctors will tie you down on a bed and lock you away until you stop saying such ridiculous things! Understand?" he shouted, his face flushed with anger "You're acting like a silly child, Martha!" he grabbed her shoulder in a bruising grip and shook her, her body rocking like a ragdoll under the force of his anger.

Her mind screamed at her to fight back, to resist, to push him away, but her body betrayed her. Instead, she felt herself go limp, her head drooping as if in submission.

"Edward..." she whispered, her voice trembling as she looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. The man she had once considered her younger and weaker colleague, was now towering over her like a giant and his body felt so big and powerful compared to hers. She wanted to lash out, to prove she was still the strong leader from the future, but instead she quietly whispered "Please..." she pleaded. "Stop it. I am... I'm... scared..."

"That's better," Edward said, his tone softer but still laced with that condescending edge. He released her shoulders and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "See? It's not so hard to be a good wife. Now, you just rest. I have to go into town to meet with some associates and when I get back, I expect to find you here. You hear me, Martha? No more of this silly nonsense about the future, or anything else."

He cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Do you understand me?" he repeated, his voice a low, dangerous murmur that sent chills down her spine.

She nodded weakly, not wanting to make him even angrier. "Y... yes, Edward. I understand," she said quietly, her eyes dropping to the floor. She felt a sickening feeling of helplessness as he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, before turning away to leave the room.

"You're right..." she whispered to herself, now alone, "... maybe i really am... just a silly wife with weak body... with too much imagination..." she gulped and lowered her gaze, afraid to close her eyes and receive more and more of her new memories about life here as Martha.

Part 2

Martha stood in the lavishly decorated ballroom, her hands trembling as she clutched the small black purse as she again looked at her reflection at the big mirror on the wall. Soft murmur of conversation from the elegantly dressed guests around her felt like a distant echo, disconnected from the reality she knew, or thought she knew.

"Why am I dressed like this?" she murmured to herself, her voice trembling with disbelief. "This isn’t me… this isn’t who I am. I was… I was someone else…" this thoughts from time to time came into her mind and she again felt herself as if she was some other person, not the quiet, obedient wife who she knew, or thought she knew, herself to be.

But who was she? Some other woman from another life? Or maybe even a man? 'A man... me as a man? A male leader of time travel... team' she laughed to herself, "No, I would have known it," she said. "I am definitely a woman and definitely not a leader of some weird thing that I'm imagining!"

She laughed quietly at herself. 'What a ridiculous imagination you have, Martha', she thought as she looked again at her reflection in the mirror and adjusted her hair, then froze as if she suddenly realized something. "I need to get out of here," she whispered to herself, the panic rising in her voice. "I need to find a way back... back to where? Back to when? Dammit, why can’t I remember anything?" she said, her hands gripping at her head, "I am losing my mind..."

"My dear," her husband's voice broke her from her reverie. "Come now, you should mingle with the other guests," he said, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder.

"Yes, dear, you are right," she replied quietly, a small smile appearing on her lips as usual - she knew how to play the part of the perfect wife. But as she allowed herself to be guided into the crowd of guests, the confusion in her mind began to grow once more. The room felt like it was closing in on her, the laughter and chatter of the guests turning into a meaningless babble that she couldn't make sense of. Like if she was underwater, looking up through a thick glass at all the happy people enjoying their evening, but unable to join them.

"Martha," Edward's voice pulled her back again, but this time it sounded distant, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel. "Are you all right, my dear?" He gently turned her to face him, his concerned expression only serving to deepen her panic.

"I… I need to leave," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t stay here, Edward. Something’s wrong… something’s terribly wrong."

Edward's brow furrowed, his grip on her arm tightening. "Nonsense," he said firmly, his voice taking on that patronizing tone again. "You're perfectly fine, Martha. Stop being such a silly child and enjoy the party." He gestured toward a nearby waiter who was holding a tray of glasses filled with dark red liquid. "Here, have some wine. It will help calm your nerves."

"Wine?" she murmured, the word sending a chill through her body. Holding the glass in her hands, she looked at it with a strange look, slowly turning her gaze to her thin, delicate palms. In flashes, instead of a glass, something else appeared in her hand and her hand at that moment was several times larger, covered in hair and obviously masculine, not like a hand of this fragile body she saw now.

"No… no, this isn’t real…" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. The wine in the glass seemed to shimmer and change color, turning a deep, sickly green that made her stomach churn. She felt the glass slipping from her grasp, but before she could stop it, it fell to the floor with a sharp crash, the sound echoing through the ballroom.

Heads turned, the elegant guests falling silent as they stared at her in shock. But Martha didn’t notice. She was too consumed by the madness that was rapidly taking over her mind. A wild, hysterical laugh bubbled up from deep within her, escaping her lips before she could stop it. She clutched her sides, doubling over as the laughter overtook her, the sound high-pitched and manic, completely unhinged.

"Martha!" Edward’s voice called out, but it sounded so distant now, as if coming from the far end of a long tunnel. "Martha, get a hold of yourself! You’re making a fool of yourself!"

But his words only seemed to make the madness worse. She shoved him away with a strength that shocked even her, sending him stumbling backward into the crowd of onlookers. "I’m not Martha! I’m not!" she shrieked, her voice rising to a fever pitch. "I’m… I’m…" But the name escaped her.

Her eyes darted around the room, they landed on a nearby table set with an elaborate display of food and drink. Without thinking, she lunged toward it, grabbing the edge and flipping it over with a crazed strength that sent platters and glasses crashing to the floor. She stumbled backward, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild animal trying to break free from its cage.

"Martha, stop this at once!" again Edward tried to calm his wife who suddenly became mad. But along with his voice she heard another, shouting louder and louder, “Fight! You have to get back, M-Kht-in," it's name! Hard to pronounce and almost incomprehensible, but that was her name! "Find the device. Find it and activate it. You can do this. You must do this."

Edward's strong hand grabbed her and pulled her out of the ballroom, when Martha wanted to run. With each passing second, reality returned again to her. The strange male voice that had suddenly arisen in her madness gradually became quieter and quieter, and Martha finally heard Edward's words and realized how she has acted.

"You are going to apologize to each guest in this house!" she heard her husband's stern words, when they returned to their bedroom, and her legs suddenly weakened and she dropped on her knees and hugged his hips, resting her head against his manhood through the trousers.

"Sorry! Sorry!" she whispered quietly, her body shaking, tears ran down her face, "Please forgive me, husband. I am a bad wife. I didn't mean to upset you or the guests. Please... I'm sorry, Edward. Forgive me!" she repeated "I will be good!" she promised him in a broken whisper "I promise!" she begged "Just please don't throw me into a madhouse, I don't know what happened, I don't know what got into me..."